


a goblet which wanteth not liquor

by Anonymous



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alien Biology, Body Worship, Fingering, Looms (Doctor Who), M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Time Lords Don't Have Belly Buttons, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 10:10:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17444900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: He must like what he sees; his mouth falls open, lips parting moist and hot. His tongue moves to taste what his hands could only touch.(crackfic)





	a goblet which wanteth not liquor

The Doctor has to stifle a gasp as the Master's fingers wander lower and find his hole. His urgency, the aborted twitch of his hips, the colour rising in his throat - ignored, as the Master traces around that soft ring of flesh. The Doctor's stomach tenses, hypersensitive to that touch as it rockets through his core. Those fingers become demanding; pressing, tugging at the rim. Spreading it with his fingers, brushing the pad of a thumb over the soft divot at the centre.

With endless patience, the point of the Master's finger dips inside. The Doctor shudders at that touch; beyond him, inside of him. There's more pressure, the Master meeting resistance, and it's too much, too far. Another finger, and there isn't only the pull of flesh deep in his guts, but the stretch of skin, and it draws a moan from him. Encouraged, the Master leans down to inspect his work with the obsessive eye of a scientist. He must like what he sees; his mouth falls open, lips parting moist and hot. His tongue moves to taste what his hands could only touch.

And this - this feels impossible. The Doctor squirms, both away from and towards the Master's mouth, cool and slippery-soft. His lips press firmly to the Doctor's skin, the tip of his tongue invading him, a sensation that feels as if it plucks an invisible string wound taut to his centre.

The Master sucks.

'Stop,' the Doctor gasps, 'stop, stop—' and pushes his head away, rearing up on the bed. Suddenly aware of his nakedness, a hand flies behind his head, no longer sure where he ought to put it.

The Master looks at him; annoyed, a little hurt.

The Doctor squints down at his navel, wet and reddened from the attention. 'I'm sorry. That's just too weird. Even for me.'

Aware he's offended him, the Doctor coaxes the Master nearer, runs a hand over his hip and smooth, unblemished abdomen. Takes careful, firm hold of the erection beneath. 'You can use this, if you like,' and then, blanching at the look on the Master's face, he corrects sharply - ' _just_ the tip.'

 

**Author's Note:**

> ...a suggestion was made to me that perhaps, being immediately post-regeneration, Thirteen's body was malleable enough to just push her earrings in and have the piercings stick that way. So of course it followed that if Time Lords are loomed without belly buttons, what's the bet that the Doctor _totally_ pushes one in every time. 
> 
> Completely perverse. ~~And the Master definitely has a fetish for it.~~


End file.
